formally, "you had the key when we started, because
you showed it to me. You can't possibly have lost it."

"No," answered Winnie calmly and knowingly. "I haven't lost it. But I'm not
going to have the things in my trunk thrown about for all these foreigners
to see. It's simply disgraceful. They ought to have women officials and
private rooms at these places. And they would have, if women had the vote.
Let him open one of your trunks. All your things are new."

The _porteur_ had meanwhile been discharging French into Audrey's other
ear.

"Of course you must open it, Winnie," said she. "Don't be so absurd!"
There was a persuasive lightness in her voice, but there was also command.
For a moment she was the perfect widow.

"I'd rather not."

"The _porteur_ says we shall be here all night," Audrey persisted.

"Do you know French?"

"I learnt French at school, Winnie," said the perfect widow. "I can't
understand every word, but I can make out the drift." And Audrey went on
translating the porter according to her own wisdom. "He says there have
been dreadful scenes here before, when people have refused to open their
trunks, and the police have had to be called in. He says the man won't
upset the things in your trunk at all."

Miss Ingate gazed into the distance, and privately smiled. Audrey had
never guessed that in Miss Ingate were such depths of obstinate stupidity.
She felt quite distinctly that her understanding of human nature was
increasing.

"Oh! Look!" said Miss Ingate casually. "I'm sure those must be real
Parisians!" Her offhandedness, her inability to realise the situation, were
exasperating to the young widow. Audrey glanced where Miss Ingate had
pointed, and saw in the doorway of the custom-house two women and a lad,
all cloaked but all obviously in radiant fancy dress, laughing together.

"Don't they look French!" said Miss Ingate.

Audrey tapped her foot on the asphalt floor, while people whose luggage had
been examined bumped strenuously against her in the effort to depart. She
was extremely pessimistic; she knew she could do nothing with Miss Ingate;
and the thought of the vast, flaring, rumbling city beyond the station
intimidated her. The _porteur_, who had gone away to collect their
neglected small baggage, now returned, and nudged her, pointing to the
official who had resumed his place behind the trunks. He was certainly a
fierce man, but he was a little man, and there was an agreeable peculia